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Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creep
The wakening vernal airs, until thou, leaping
From unremembered dreams, shalt

No death divide thy immortality.



I loved - O no, I mean not one of ye,
Or any earthly one, though ye are dear
As human heart to human heart may be ;

I loved, I know not what - but this low sphere
And all that it contains, contains not thee,

Thou, whom seen nowhere, I feel everywhere. From heaven and earth, and all that in them are, Veiled art thou, like a



By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest,

Neither to be contained, delayed, nor hidden,

Making divine the loftiest and the lowest,

When for a moment thou art not forbidden

To live within the life which thou bestowest;

And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden,

Cold as a corpse after the spirit's flight,

Blank as the sun after the birth of night.


In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common.
In music and the sweet unconscious tone
Of animals, and voices which are human,

Meant to express some feelings of their own;
In the soft motions and rare smile of woman,
In flowers and leaves, and in the grass fresh-shewn,
Or dying in the autumn, I the most

Adore thee present or lament thee lost.


And thus I went lamenting, when I saw
A plant upon the river's margin lie,
Like one who loved beyond his Nature's law,
And in despair had cast him down to die ;
Its leaves which had outlived the frost, the thaw
Had blighted; like a heart which hatred's eye
Can blast not, but which pity kills; the dew
Lay on its spotted leaves like tears too true.


The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth
Had crushed it on her unmaternal breast.



I bore it to my chamber, and I planted
It in a vase full of the lightest mould;
The winter beams which out of Heaven slanted

Fell through the window panes, disrobed of cold,
Upon its leaves and flowers; the star which panted
In evening for the Day, whose car has rolled
Over the horizon's wave, with looks of light
Smiled on it from the threshold of the night.


The mitigated influences of air

And light revived the plant, and from it grew
Strong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair,
Full as a cup with the vine's burning dew,
O'erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphere
Of vital warmth infolded it anew,

And every impulse sent to every part
The unbeheld pulsations of its heart.


Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong,
Even if the air and sun had smiled not on it;

For one wept o'er it all the winter long

Tears pure as Heaven's rain, which fell upon it

Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song
Mixed with the stringèd melodies that won it
To leave the gentle lips on which it slept,
Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept.


Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers On which he wept, the while the savage storm Waked by the darkest of December's hours

Was raving round the chamber hushed and warm ; The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers, The fish were frozen in the pools, the form Of every summer plant was dead . . .


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ROUGH wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud

Knells all the night long;
Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches stain,

Deep caves and dreary main,

Wail, for the world's wrong!



"SLEEP, sleep on! forget thy pain;

My hand is on thy brow,

My spirit on thy brain ;

My pity on thy heart, poor friend;
And from my fingers flow

The powers of life, and like a sign,
Seal thee from thine hour of woe;
And brood on thee, but may not blend

With thine.



Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not;

But when I think that he

Who made and makes my lot

As full of flowers as thine of weeds,
Might have been lost like thee;
And that a hand which was not mine,

Might then have charmed his agony
As I another's-my heart bleeds

For thine.

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